


Black Dog Blues

by kracken



Series: Black Dog Blues [1]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M, Yaoi, gundam wing - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-01-11 03:30:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18421917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kracken/pseuds/kracken
Summary: Duo is a troubled detective who solves cases with the help of visions of the supernatural. Unfortunately, those visions are driving him slowly insane. Can his new partner Heero Yuy save his soul and his sanity? AU





	1. Dancing With the Crazy

Chapter One  
(Dancing with the Crazy)

The run-down apartment buildings and marginal businesses were a hodgepodge of styles from different eras. In their decay, they appeared to slump towards the street full of cars that were bumper to bumper and expelling exhaust in white clouds. The good elements of society rubbed elbows with the worst in a miasma of humanity; shopping, taking their kids to school, going to work, or standing on street corners ready to rob the weak or start a fight. They all parted like the Red Sea to let one man through. They moved away from him as if they were polar opposites repelling each other.

Duo Maxwell strode the pavement with confident steps in time to the hard rock tune blasting through his earbuds. His three feet of honey-colored braid swung behind him like a pendulum, his black long coat swirling along with it in a cold wind. His black sunglasses made him look inscrutable and dangerous. Having lived his young life on the streets as an orphan, he still exuded an aura of street smarts.

Ahead of him, two young men came careening out of the crowd as they did their best to pound each other into oblivion. They were dressed poorly for the weather as if trying to show their machismo. Tattoos covered their bodies in intricate designs, symbols, and inflammatory words. Some were engraved crudely as if done with a sharp instrument during a drunken night of grief or rage. Piercings and holes peppered them in places that were designed to cause conversations about the decline of youth, morality, and common sense.

The crowd wisely gave them space.

Without breaking stride, his mind on nothing in particular and his ‘don’t give a fuck’ a lot stronger than theirs, Duo challenged their claim to a piece of urban territory that had been theirs by right of might. They almost collided with him, but then seemed to veer off at the last possible moment as if repelled by the barrier of Duo’s indifference. They broke off their fight and wore mirror expressions of wariness as he passed between them and continued down the sidewalk. In the next moment, they collided together as they began their fight again, two elemental titans of muscle and negative emotions hell-bent on mutual destruction.

The adrenaline rush caused by Duo’s moment of danger made him tingle and his heart beat strongly. It was like taking a hit of a drug, a pick me up to get his day started. The rush let him know he was alive. Sometimes he doubted it. Being Duo Maxwell, homicide detective and the resident weirdo of the 49th precinct didn’t make for days filled with sunshine and unicorns after all.

Light rain began dripping from the sky as if God was personally taking it into his own hands to make everyone’s morning commute a little more miserable. Some people pulled up their hoods. A few better-prepared souls raised and opened umbrellas. Duo had neither and nor did a blind, crippled beggar.

Sitting in his wheelchair by the wall of a boarded-up business, the beggar’s dark sunglasses were looking hard at nothing. His thick, gray brows were drawn down in a frown. His dark skin was wrinkled and leathery. His clothing was made up of thrift store specials. The sign he wore was cardboard. Its message, scrawled in black marker, was either a plea or a condemnation; Need help. It was placed in front of a plastic cup. It was the generic cup that came from a gas station drink fountain that gave reduced refills if you returned with the cup. Raindrops covered the old man like diamonds.

Duo didn’t care about the beggar. He was more interested in a paper machine. They were becoming rare. He despised online news, liking it on paper so he could turn, fold it, and tear out bits he liked. His morning wasn’t complete without a stop to get his paper. Only this time, his pockets were devoid of change. His coins were back at his apartment by the front door, in a little blue plastic dish, on a badly painted red table.

“Fuck me!”

Duo searched every pocket again, wondering how he had forgotten such an important part of his routine. His pockets were deep and repositories for every kind of object, some needed and others not. The change was not among them.

From the perspective of a citizen on the street, his next move probably looked heartless in the extreme. It begged intervention from some passing hero of justice. No hero appeared as Duo turned and strode over to the panhandler and began searching in his cup for coins.

The beggar made his outrage clear and he was loud enough to be heard over Duo’s music. “Hey! What are you doing? You’re stealing from the blind, you fucker!” He jerked the cup away from Duo, but not quickly enough. Duo had taken enough money for his newspaper.

Ignoring the beggar’s curses, Duo returned to the paper machine. Putting in the coins, the machine made satisfying clinks. Opening the rusty door of the machine, he retrieved his paper and tucked it under his arm.

The beggar was furious now. He began to rise from his chair, but then restrained himself and settled into his seat again. His quick, covert glances at the crowd revealed his intent to defraud the public. After repositioning his cup and his sign, he glared at Duo and spat on the sidewalk. His spit mixed with the rain as Duo strode away uncaring. A veteran of begging himself, Duo had easily seen through the beggar’s scam.

Only a few feet down the sidewalk, Duo felt a sudden, hard grip on his arm. He yanked his earbuds out with one hand and raised the other to grip the ragged coat of the man who had grabbed him. Duo was ready for a fight, ready to defend himself against a thief. Instead, he was confronted by another homeless man. Duo relaxed his defensive stance and released the man’s coat, grimacing in disgust at the filth on it.

“I’m not a faker like him. I’m the real thing, Buddy,” the man whined. “Maybe you don’t have change, but I could use a dollar or two for a cup of coffee.”

He was standing in a dark alley. Like the beggar in the wheelchair, he too was dressed in thrift store couture, but he was authentic. He smelled like piss and months of missed baths.

Duo leveled his sunglasses at the man, trying to be intimidating. He hated being touched.

The homeless man let go of Duo’s arm nervously. He patted the material of Duo’s coat as if to say, there, I didn’t hurt it before he stepped back. He was a lone, frightened figure waiting for charity or bodily harm. The rain slowly dripped from the sky, tiny drops dotting him and the refuse just visible in the shadows. There were a few, large cardboard boxes that had been flattened and leaned against a wall; a makeshift shelter that was slowly soaking up the wet. There was a stench coming from the ally; the reek of rot and death. It wasn’t human death, though. Being a homicide detective, Duo was well acquainted with that smell.

Duo rubbed his nose in disgust as he pulled out his wallet.

The homeless man’s attitude changed from fearful to hopeful. He was rubbing his cold hands together, watching Duo go through his wallet with avid interest.

“Yeah, you smell it? Terrible isn’t it? It’s not me, I swear.” The homeless man chuckled. “Some guy dumped trash down there a week ago and the smell’s getting bad enough for me to move.” He looked worried suddenly. “It’s a good spot, though. People don’t bother me here.”

Duo pulled a small white card from his wallet, gave it a flourish to get the homeless man’s attention, and then handed it to him. It was the address of a recovery center, food bank, shelter, and a psychologist that worked with the homeless.  
The homeless man took the card with a bewildered expression. As he touched the card something slid out of the shadows behind him. As quick as a pouncing leopard it rushed forward to stand at the beggar’s back, towering menacingly over him. Duo’s grip on the card unintentionally tightened and he played a strange tug-of-war with the homeless man before he came back to himself and released it. Duo stepped back warily.

The creature met all the requirements of a demon from hell, except existing when it should have been a myth dreamed up to scare parishioners into attending church. Tall and naked, its skin was the color of hellfire. Its bulging eyes stared down intently at the homeless man and its sharp claws opened and closed reflexively. Two small horns on its head completed its appearance and looked as if they had been borrowed from a goat. It was emaciated, as if there were a shortage of people willing to sell their black souls for him to eat.

Duo felt deeply disturbed, especially when the demon barred its sharp teeth and its drool dripped onto the homeless man’s head along with the rain. Its drool seemed heavier, though, and it made definite plopping noises. There was also a smell that was stronger than the stink of the homeless man and the garbage behind him. It wasn’t a fire and brimstone smell. It was more like stinking dead dog, a rat infestation, and rotten fish all rolled into one. The creature wasn’t casting a shadow, even though the homeless man was, and it flickered like a strobe light, in and out of existence, as if it was having trouble staying outside of a nightmare.

Duo frowned sharply, ducked his head, and looked away. The normalcy of the street traffic and the pedestrians passing by was unnerving him. He put his earbuds back in. The music started, the loud, heavy beat as numbing as a shot of whiskey. Without looking at the homeless man, Duo continued his commute to work.

Duo heard the homeless man scream, “Fuck You!” even over the music.

Duo’s sudden step to the left into a world where demons draw fetid breath and menace homeless people was not an unusual occurrence for him. His psychologist told him it was a manifestation of a childhood trauma he was trying hard not to remember. Since the childhood he did remember was terrible enough, he didn’t want to delve into blocked memories that might prove worse. Despite the visions, he managed to hold down a job and make the rent on a small apartment, but it hadn’t been easy. If he didn’t solve most of his caseload, he was sure his superiors would have been less likely to put up with his unorthodox behavior and his bad habits. He couldn’t see gruesome, demonic, supernatural entities without reaching for the bottle once in a while.

The visions seemed to manifest when Duo’s brain was working through a case or a rough patch in his life. His brain went ‘click’ and he was suddenly handed all the answers from somewhere deep inside his psyche via a supernatural vision. Those answers weren’t always plain. Sometimes, they were as cryptic as a riddle from a Tibetan Bodhisattva. In the visions, the creatures called him Shinigami, as if he were one of them. Duo’s psychologist thought that meant that Duo yearned for fame or at least approval from the only father figure in his life, the Chief of police. Duo thought his analysis was bullshit and hadn’t minded telling him so. Visions and drinking too much aside, Duo’s blunt nature was just as much an impediment to his rising in the ranks. If it wasn’t for said father figure, he doubted he would still have a job. Chief Zechs Marquise often rued the day he had promised a dying priest to take care of Duo. Guilt only went so far, though, and Duo knew the day would come when even that wouldn’t be enough to help him keep his job.

Duo turned up his collar against the cold and took the icy steps up to a place that was more a home than his tiny, rundown apartment, the 49th precinct.

TBC  
More of my fanfiction is archived on my site: kracken.bonpublishing.com/new/index.html  
Facebook: facebook.com/krackensan/


	2. Something Old Something New

Striding through the double glass doors of the 49th Precinct like a bad omen, Duo jerked out his earbuds and headed directly for the stained coffee maker to the left of the doors. It was a canister coffee maker that made 32 cups at a time. Its shiny metal surface was dented and there was a crease that looked suspiciously like a close call with a bullet. There were Styrofoam cups for the public, but underneath in a cabinet, the officers kept their personal mugs stacked on a plastic rack. World’s Greatest Dad vied for space with Bitch Until Coffee Added and Cat Person. Duo wasn’t sure who cleaned the mugs and kept the coffee maker full, but they were diligent in their job. The coffee maker was never empty.

 

Duo left his sunglasses on and tucked his newspaper into one of his jacket pockets as he picked up his coffee mug, a white one that said ‘This Shit Is Mine’ on it in big black letters. His hands shook slightly as he hit the tap and filled his mug to the brim with steaming coffee. It smelled wonderful. It also made a wonderful sound as it filled his cup. He swallowed hard as the liquid nirvana in his cup trembled and sloshed alarmingly. Watching it closely, to make certain he didn’t lose a drop, Duo turned to the crowded room and carefully threaded the maze of desks, officers, citizens, and perps that filled the old precinct office to capacity.

 

It was a sea of people all intent on breaking the sound barrier and causing as much trouble as possible as they argued, struggled, cursed, gave statements, and shouted obscenities as overworked officers tried to do their jobs in a gothic style building that hadn’t changed much since the 1920’s. Aside from the addition of computers and a phone system, the peeling plaster, the cracked marble floors, tall, narrow windows with old frames, Depression era glass, and the inconveniently placed columns throughout the room, would have made Elliot Ness feel at home.

 

A big perp in a leather biker jacket, with a bald head and a tattoo of a skull on his forehead, looked offended when Duo stuck an elbow into his back and pushed him out of his way. The perp couldn’t retaliate with his hands behind his back locked together with a zip tie, but his glare down at Duo was enough to melt paint off of steel. Duo ignored him as he continued to his desk at the center of the chaos.

 

The chaos continued onto Duo’s desk. Case files were stacked high and threatening to topple over in a metal IN bin that had probably serviced three generations of detectives before Duo. His desk was littered with more files, candy wrappers, and empty food containers. His computer screen was covered in sticky notes. An old style rolodex was full of business cards, notes, and hastily scrawled names and phone numbers on bits of paper that looked torn from fast food bags. One phone number without a name had been scrawled on part of a Styrofoam cup.

 

Duo sat down in his chair, holding his mug of coffee in both hands. With his eyes still hidden behind his sunglasses, he sipped his coffee slowly. His face broke into an expression of utter contentment.

 

“The Chief–”

 

“Wait!” Duo barked the word without opening his eyes. He slowly sipped his coffee a few more times, savoring every swallow. It had a rich, nutty flavor that danced on his palette while its warmth took the chill of horror and cold rain off his thin body and damaged psyche.

 

Duo sighed and finally lowered his coffee cup.

 

“Okay, now.”

 

Officer Chang Wufei was a career, spit and polish, by the book kind of police officer. His black hair was pulled back in a severe small pony tail and his dark Asian eyes were always critical and serious. He worked out regularly in order to execute his duties to the best of his ability. He was Duo’s complete opposite in everything, which made it hard for Duo to like the man, or understand why Wufei bothered speaking to him at all.

 

“The Chief has been looking for you.”

 

Duo grimaced. “That’s nice.” It wasn’t of course. Anytime Chief Merquise took an interest in him it involved criticism and condemnation.

 

“You’ve been a no show for four days. I fail to understand why he tolerates your dereliction of duty.”

 

Duo finally tossed his sunglasses onto his desk and looked over at Wufie sitting at the desk next to his. His desk was, of course, neat and organized.

 

Duo leaned a little towards Wufei, his amethyst eyes narrowed with irritation, and said in a low tone. “Want in on a little secret, Wufei? I’ve been on his shit list since I started here. My name is in big black letters on that list. It’s punctuated with voodoo hex symbols. There are holes in it because he stabs it with his pencil every time I do something wrong. He’s not tolerating me.”

Wufei scowled. “I never know when you’re joking.”

 

Duo chuckled and straightened. “Good. I like to be mysterious. People love that about me.”

 

Wufei looked dubious. “You’re not mysterious, you’re bizarre. That’s probably why you’ve failed to secure a significant other.”

 

Duo arched an eyebrow as he gazed into the delicious depths of his steaming coffee mug. “You mean girlfriend?”

 

Wufei replied uncomfortably, “If that’s how you choose to identify your sexuality today.”

 

Duo felt a wave of irritation. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with Wufei or anyone else.

 

“That didn’t make any sense, Wufei. What happened? Did they make you take that bullshit sensitivity class?"

 

Wufei was clearly offended. “I volunteered. There’s nothing wrong with learning to better serve the people I interact with on a daily basis. Now that our force is becoming more diverse, it also doesn’t hurt to learn how to respect my fellow officer’s life choices as well.”

 

Duo stared at him for a full beat. He hadn’t been open about being gay and he wasn’t about to discuss it now with PC Wufei. “Make a note, Wufei. I never want to discuss my significant others, or lack of them, with you. Got that?”

 

“The force is changing, Duo. You can’t work like this is the 1950’s. We’re inclusive, now.”

 

Duo growled in disgust, “I’m pretty sure you don’t know what ‘inclusive’ means. You sound like a damned parrot, Wufei. You’re just regurgitating everything you heard. Are you trying to get promoted? Is that why you’re trying to find your inner–”

 

Wufei cut him off with a sharp hand motion. He spun his seat, causing it to make loud squeaks, and turned away from Duo. “I shouldn’t bother trying to discuss anything with you. You’re a waste of a good badge!”

 

“I was starting to think you forgot that fact,” Duo said with a tight smile.

 

Wufei usually didn’t confront him about his behavior, but maybe he had wanted to try out his new ‘sensitivity’ and Duo had been closest. Duo liked him better as an aloof bastard.

 

Wufei didn’t look at him, but he said insightfully, “You’re arguing with me to avoid talking to the Chief. It’s just going to anger him more.”

 

Duo put down his mug in one of the few clear spaces on his desk and stood up. He said irritably, “You’ve finally said something I understand.”

 

Wufei ignored him as he began to work.

 

Duo put on his sunglasses again, straightened his coat, smoothed down the black material with the palms of his hands, and then settled his shoulders and his mind. His coat was still damp and his hair was partially wet, his long braid dotted with rain drops. His hands were still trembling slightly, but it wasn’t because the old precinct had a crappy heating system. He looked at them, tried to still them, and then turned his hands into fists as he began walking through the crowd towards the Chief’s office.

 

Separated from the rest of the room by a low wall and a three foot, frosted glass partition on top of that, the Chief’s office always made Duo think of bank teller booths. If he stood on his toes, he could see over it. The door was short as well and seemed a ridiculous attempt to give the illusion of privacy and security when there was neither. It was never locked, but few people dared to enter without knocking. Duo was one of those who dared.

 

The old Chief had been before Duo’s time, but he’d been told the man had loved displaying his stuffed fishing trophies on the low walls and smoking his big cigars. Duo could appreciate the latter. He enjoyed a smoke himself from time to time to calm his nerves. There was still the thick smell of cigars clinging to everything despite intensive cleaning, years of no smoking regulations, and the present Chief’s air fresheners. Gone were the stuffed bass. The office was neat and clean and filled with upscale furniture that included a large, black mahogany desk. There were awards on the low walls. A candy dish and a picture of the new Chief shaking hands with the mayor vied for space on a desk corner where a picture of his family should have gone.

 

Chief Zechs Merquise was fashion magazine perfect. He looked thirty-something, his long, white-blonde hair caught back by a hair clip and his ice blue eyes hidden by pale lashes as he looked down at paperwork on his desk. His gray, designer business suit didn’t hide that he kept himself in shape. His jacket was unbuttoned and a well-worn shoulder holster appeared briefly as he gestured and talked heatedly with whoever was on the other end of the phone line. That worn shoulder holster reminded Duo that Merquise hadn’t always sat behind a desk.

 

“It’s bad enough we don’t have our own forensics unit, but having to wait two weeks for results from Tri-City General on the Murphy case–yes, I know–appropriations, budget cuts, and the economy–you can stop the replay, Jones, I’m tired of hearing it.”

 

Chief Merquise glared at Duo and motioned him to wait until he was done with his call.

 

Duo didn’t believe in being uncomfortable while he waited. He grabbed a modern design, dark leather chair from a corner of the office and pulled it across the floor. It made a loud craping noise. Duo settled it in front of Merquise’s desk and sat in it heavily. The springs squeaked and the expensive leather made noises as he settled.

 

Merquise glared at Duo through the entire process, but he wasn’t willing to interrupt his conversation to criticize him. “I don’t know how you expect me to run this place on Bandaids and Bacteine. Bacteine–it’s an antibiotic spray.”

 

Something suddenly slid out from beneath Merquise’s desk. Duo started badly and almost pulled his gun from its holster at the small of his back. Heart pounding, he watched a white, very fluffy cat stretch and yawn. It was wearing a fake diamond collar with its name spelled out in a sparkling oval. It reads PUSS. The cat rubbed up against Duo’s black pants leg, leaving copious amounts of white fur behind. With a low curse, Duo irritably shooed it away. He tried in vain to brush the fur off with his hand. He looked for the cat, intending to point at it while he complained about its presence. Duo couldn’t find it.

 

Duo straightened and tried to look nonchalant, but his gut clenched as he tried to recall if he had done anything that would make Merquise call the staff psychiatrist. Luckily, Merquise wasn’t paying attention to him.

 

“I have three detectives,” Merquise was saying. He picked up a pen, thumped the point on his desk blotter several times, threw it down, and sat back in his chair. “All I’m asking for is one more. No, I won’t fire two patrol officers to pay for him. In case you’ve forgotten, we are in a high crime neighborhood.”

 

Puss suddenly appeared again, jumping into Merquise’s lap. While he petted it absently, Duo let out a soft, slow breath, relieved that the cat actually existed. He wasn’t prepared when the cat suddenly changed into a beautiful woman.

 

Duo bit his lower lip to stifle his first reaction, to shout holy shit! His hands gripped his chair arms hard.

 

The woman wasn’t in Merquise’s lap. She was standing and leaning towards Duo, her naked, ghost like figure bathed in light and occupying the same space as the desk. Her long white hair was flying out behind her as if in a high wind and her hands were reaching out to Duo with slim fingers tipped with claws that looked razor sharp.

 

Duo shuddered, his eyes wide. His visions had never harmed him, but he couldn’t be sure this wasn’t going to be the first time. He’d spent his life being terrified by them. He had become an expert at looking calm and unaffected… usually. A shape changing cat was the last thing he had expected to see in his Chief’s office.

 

Her eyes were like a cat’s, but white with red irises. She grinned at him with a mouth full of sharp teeth as if enjoying his fright. Between one blink and the next she was a cat again, lounging in Merquise’s lap and still being petted.

 

Duo rubbed a shaking hand over his face and tried to regain his composure.

 

Merquise was still oblivious. He was frowning. “A detective on loan? Well, it’ll certainly solve my shortage until we get a permanent detective. Great! I’ll expect him as soon as possible. Stuff him in a car and get him here, now. Yes, now. Send the contents of his locker and his desk later. Yes, I need him that badly. I owe you one. No, I won’t eat your wife’s Pasta Fagioli and tell her it’s good. That’s asking too much.”

 

Merquise hung up his phone looking thoughtful. He stroked his cat a few more times and then glared at Duo. As if that was its cue, Puss jumped off his lap and went under the desk.

 

Duo made his hands stop gripping the chair arms before he broke them. He made an attempt to look bored and irritated. He wasn’t sure how successful he was. He could still feel his gut clenching with anxiety. He tried to shore up his act by leaning forward, carefully picking out a candy from the dish, and leaning back again.

 

Duo slowly unwrapped his candy as he said, “Can we just pretend you shouted at me, I apologized, and you said don’t do it again, or you’ll be suspended? I’ve had a bad morning–night–life–you fill in the blank.

 

Merquise made a steeple out of his fingers and replied calmly. “I wasn’t going to shout and I don’t want to suspend you.”

 

Duo felt relieved. “Well, that’s good.” He put the wrapper back into the candy dish and popped the candy into his mouth. It was raspberry flavored.

 

“I’d like to fire you.” Merquise fished the wrapped out of his candy dish and tossed it somewhere else behind his desk, presumably into a wastebasket there. “You’re lucky you’re that good, Maxwell.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Merquise made a vague motion in the direction of the main precinct room. “There are a lot of veteran officers out there who would love to have your job. They would be a hell of a lot less high maintenance. They wouldn’t disappear for days at a time either.”  
“You know why I take the time off! If you’d rather I came in here drunk off my ass...”

 

Merquise leaned forward with intensity, his elbows on his desk with his hands flat, as if he felt like standing up and knocking sense into Duo. “I’d rather you went to the police psychiatrist instead of taking the edge off with a drinking binge. Does it even help?"

 

Duo sucked on his candy for a moment and then said in a low, disgusted voice, “My high school psychiatrist was better qualified than him. Who said I was drinking, anyway?”

 

Merquise’s expression was incredulous.

 

“You weren’t drinking? Were you taking drugs instead? Is that why you’re wearing your sunglasses? So I can’t see your eyes?”  
A charge like that struck like a knife into Duo’s heart considering his past. Merquise was well aware of that past. In fact, he was a large part of it. That meant the anger and pain he was inflicting was intentional.

 

Duo swallowed what was left of his candy, and whipped off his sunglasses so that Merquise could see his bloodshot, but not dilated eyes. He replied furiously, “How many times do I have to tell you that I’ll never do drugs? I don’t care how shitty, or crazy my life gets, I won’t end up like those people I was forced to hide from when I lived on the streets, the people who killed Father Maxwell.”

 

Merquise sat back in his chair again, but he was looking concerned. Duo’s outburst hadn’t convinced him.  
“Drinking is the same thing Duo. It just takes longer. The psychiatrist could prescribe you something safe.”

 

Duo stared at the floor rather than at Merquise’s concerned expression. His shoes were dirty and the white cat fur still clung to his pants leg.  
“That’s how it starts out,” Duo argued. “The drugs help you, hook you, and then kill you by slow degrees. Sometimes you end up taking other people down on your way to checking out.”

 

Merquise sounded disgusted and at his wits end.

 

“Let’s not do this again,” Merquise said tightly. “You’re talking about Father Maxwell’s case again, aren’t you? I was there, remember? You have to accept that we will never find who gave him the bad drugs. Refusing to let it rest is keeping you from getting the help you need. If I hadn’t made that promise to him…”

 

He trailed off, obviously taking a painful, guilt ridden trip down memory lane.

 

Duo wasn’t going to allow him to indulge in self-flagellation. “You’re right, let’s not do this again. I don’t need to hear about how he guilt tripped you with his dying breath into transferring me to your precinct, when I was looking at a dismissal for my dozens of failed psych evaluations and a multitude of disciplinary marks. You shot him in self-defense. He was high on prescription meds and he was going to shoot you. You were doing your job. Nobody says any differently, including me. You don’t need to keep me employed if you want to fire me.”  
Merquise looked stricken. “Duo, I...”

 

Duo made a dismissive gesture. “Like I said when I first came in; let’s just assume we both danced the dance and I’ll get back to work.”

 

Puss came out from beneath the desk and tried to rub against Duo’s leg again. He stared at it with wide eyes, expecting it to change into the ghost woman. When it didn’t, he dared to push it away from him. His hand sunk into its thick white fur. It was very soft and warm.  
The cat gave Duo an offended look and walked away to investigate a corner of the office.

 

“Why is there a cat in your office?”

 

Merquise’s expression became indulgent as he looked over at the cat. He shrugged, clearly embarrassed as well.

 

“I bought her a week ago. For some reason, I can’t leave her at home. I feel better when she’s here. She helps with my stress. Maybe you should get one?”

 

Duo stared at the cat. She seems to be staring back smugly. “I have pets. They love me, aren’t demanding, and don’t shed all over the place. Speaking of which, I’m sending you my cleaning bill.”

 

Merquise made a dismissive gesture and made some notes on his blotter. When he was done, he looked up at Duo with a serious expression.  
“Forget the cat. I managed to get you a new partner. He should be arriving in about an hour. Try not to break this one, Duo. I’m running out of people who owe me favors.”

 

“Hilde was not my fault!” Duo retorted.

 

“It’s never your fault, Duo,” Merquise said in disgust, “yet the common denominator here is you. You’re still on the force while your partners have either quit or transferred. You take too many risks and you’re too hard to work with. Fix both those things in one hour.”

 

Duo stood and grabbed a handful of candies.

 

“Maybe you need to hire someone more hardcore who can keep up with me?” he argued angrily as he stuffed the candies into his pocket. “These kids fresh out of the academy you keep sticking me with–”

 

“Don’t know your reputation,” Merquise pointed out in disgust. “The ones with more experience don’t want to ruin their careers by being associated with you.”

 

“I thought you were the Chief of Police in this precinct. Don’t you give the orders around here?”

 

“How would that go exactly, Duo? I order you to work with a maniac, ruin your career, and maybe lose your life. Report to Detective Duo Maxwell.”

 

“I see that asking nicely hasn’t had any results either, so what’s your point?”

 

Merquise rubbed his forehead and frowned. They stared at each other for a long moment.

 

“What?” Merquise asked abruptly.

 

“Am I fired or not?”

 

Merquise swore under his breath.

 

“I told you I just acquired another partner for you. I wouldn’t do that if I’d just fired you, Maxwell!”

 

Duo smirked. “I just needed confirmation.”

 

“If your unorthodox investigating technique didn’t solve so many cases, I would fire you.”

 

Duo grinned. “A compliment, thanks.”

 

“It was an observation. Don’t push your luck. When your new partner arrives, I expect you to start with the Metzer case. Some questions were raised about the investigation. Verify that the case was handled with due diligence and close it. Take your new partner along and break him in slow. I suggest you try very hard this time not to let him in on your particular talent.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Duo said sourly.

 

“And don’t let him get killed on the first day.”

 

“Checking the facts of a case can get someone killed?”

 

“Ask Mullens–oh, right. You can’t. He has a restraining order against you. I’ve never lost a detective because of an attack by an irritated circus elephant, Maxwell.”

 

“The elephant was pertinent to the case.”

 

“Sure it was. Get out of my office, Duo.”

 

The cat jumped into Merquise’s lap again. He stared down at it. His angry expression turned into pleasure. He smiled and smoothed a hand along the cat’s back, making it purr loudly.

 

The cat was watching Duo intently. Duo stared back unnerved.

 

“Something else?” Merquise asked abruptly.

 

The cat didn’t transform again. It continued to look like an ordinary cat.

 

“No, nothing.”

 

Duo left Merquise’s office and couldn’t help a shiver. 

 

TBC


	3. Two to Tango

An hour later, Duo was sitting at his desk with his coat drying on the back of his chair. His hair was drying as well and remembering that it liked to hang in his face rather than defy gravity. His newspaper was open to the ads for rental apartments. Candies and wrappers made a pile to his left. He slowly picked out a lemon candy, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth while he stared at the person sitting in front of his desk. She was a frail looking old woman. Dressed prim and proper, she was still trying to rock a style that had been popular in the 1950s. She fit in well with the décor of the building.

 

Duo was supposed to be taking the old woman’s statement, but his notepad had very little on it and his hand, poised with a pen, hadn’t moved in a long while. His eyes had become glazed and his mouth was set in a thin line. He was a study in patience, but it was clear he was about to reach the end of it.

 

Wufei was working at his own desk. He glanced over periodically with an expression of concern as if he was afraid Duo might try to hurt the old woman. It made the situation that much more irritating. He hadn’t intended on taking the woman’s complaint. She had wandered through the continuing chaos, tottering around gang members, drug addicts, and alleged prostitutes as if his desk was her loadstone. She had ignored Duo’s amethyst glare, sat down, and began talking with firm confidence that was at odds with the confusing information she was trying to convey.

 

“The thief looked like Jamie, Harold’s son.”

 

Duo blinked, unprepared for actual information. He raised his pen from its lazy sideways position. “Who’s Jamie?”

 

The old woman looked confused, her brow furrowed.

 

“I see him in the hallways of our apartment building, mostly.”

 

Duo sighed and made a circular doodle on his notepad.

 

“Harold or Jamie?”

 

The old woman made a motion with one finger like a conductor in front of an orchestra and nodded. “Harold.” She was wearing a wedding and engagement ring encrusted with diamonds. They hung loosely on her boney finger.

 

Duo waited, finishing his candy and making more circles on his notepad. Nothing more seemed to be forthcoming from the old woman.  
“And who is Harold, exactly?”

 

The old woman clutched her blue, macramé purse with both hands and said in exasperation, “Jamie’s father! I’ve already told you that.”  
Duo scowled and sipped at his cooling coffee. The old woman squinted as she read what was written on the mug. She huffed and looked offended.

 

“I don’t like you, Detective Maxwell. Is there someone else I can talk to?”

 

Duo put down his mug. He plastered on a fake smile and turned to Wufei. He asked in a pleasant tone, “Wufei? Do you mind taking Mrs. Angelino’s complaint?”

 

Duo turned back to the old woman. “Officer Wufei is one of our best. He’ll get to the bottom of… whatever you’re complaining about.”

 

Wufei stood up like a spring being released. As if the woman was his own grandmother, he gently guided her to the chair in front of his desk and helped her sit. When she was settled, he sat in his chair and poised a pen over his notepad. He looked like her complaint was the most important event in his day. Duo had never been able to master the art of dealing with the public. He really didn’t want to. It was the hard cases that interested him, not finding lost keys and noise complaints.

 

Duo sifted through the case files in his overfull IN box. He pulled out one, opened it up on his messy desk and peered at the corresponding file he had long ago opened on his computer. He was allowed to read for a few minutes before he became aware that someone was standing in front of his desk. He hunched behind his computer, trying to ignore the person and hide, but they didn’t go away. Finally, Duo looked up with a glare, ready to repel another assault on his time.

 

An Asian looking man with a mess of chocolate hair and a dead-eye set of deep blue eyes stood stiffly in front of him. The man was dressed in a plain, brown business suit and his just as bland expression didn’t give Duo any clue whether he was about to launch into a complaint or compliment him on his… Duo couldn’t think of anything that warranted a compliment at the moment. The only thing Duo could ascertain was that the man was ‘packing heat’ and was probably a detective, not a civilian.

 

“You are?”

 

“Detective Heero Yuy, I’ve been assigned as your partner.” His voice was as flat as his expression. He seemed to be trying to excel at rigid blandness. He wasn’t bad looking, Duo thought, and it was obvious he spent time at the gym.

 

“My last partner was a woman,” Duo said and then felt a moment of ‘fuck you world, especially Captain Merquise’ as he added bluntly, “I like working with women because they don’t usually mind that I’m gay. I hope that won’t be a problem for you? I promise not to give unexpected blowjobs, all right?”

 

Yuy didn’t even blink at his crudeness.

 

Duo stared at him, nonplussed by his inability to get a reaction and vent at the same time. He felt immature and that pissed him off even more. He said acidly, “I only have a few rules; show up on time, take lots of notes when I talk, and try to keep up. If you’re gun happy, you can go back where you came from. My name is Duo, but I don’t do Jack Bauer. We’re solving cases, not getting in the line of fire.”

 

Yuy’s non-expression cracked briefly. His dark brows drew together a minuscule fraction, expressing his confusion, before smoothing out again.

Duo was incredulous. “Jack Bauer–Are you telling me you don’t know who that is? Jack Bauer–24–lots of shooting–forget it.”

Duo held up the file from his desk.

 

“This is our case, Yuy. The Chief wouldn’t let me work anything serious until I had a partner, so we’re behind and we have to play catch up. I’ll fill you in on all the facts as we drive–you can drive, right? I don’t unless absolutely necessary. If you saw me drive, you would thank me for that decision.”

 

Yuy took out his car keys and dangled them where Duo could see them. They were hanging from an old scuffed piece of metal by a few links of chain.

 

Duo looked Yuy up and down as he stood up and took his still damp coat from the back of his chair. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

Yuy didn’t reply.

 

Duo shrugged into his coat as he came around his desk. As they began to walk out of the station he muttered, “That’s good, because I like to do all the talking.”

****

The fast food drive through was bumper to bumper. When they finally drove up to order in Yuy’s plain, white car, Duo was starving and irritable. He leaned over Yuy in the driver seat and squinted at the menu.

 

“Three breakfast burritos, one hash brown, one cinnamon mega bun with extra cream cheese, and a large coffee. You want anything Heero?”

Yuy frowned and shook his head.

Duo stared at him for a beat, wondering how he could resist a fast food breakfast, and then sat back in his seat with a shrug. “Just a warning; I’m not sharing.”

 

Yuy pulled up to the next window. Duo dug into his wallet for money and handed it to him. He passed it to the waiting woman leaning out of the window.

 

“You didn’t get close enough,” Duo pointed out.

 

Yuy didn’t respond. He had revealed a part of his personality to Duo as clearly as if he had filled out a psychological exam. Risk takers pulled up close to the drive-through window. Cautious people left space, afraid of scratching their car. That didn’t make Duo happy. He needed someone to follow him into any situation and have his back. He didn’t need someone to hang back and question his every move. That had been his last partner’s problem. She had transferred after only a few months, disgusted with Duo’s methodology, his compulsiveness and his weird nature. The drinking hadn’t endeared him to her either.

 

“Thank you. Second window, please.”

 

Yuy drove up to the pick-up window. Duo put his wallet into his pocket, making the woman, leaning out of the window with his bag of food and drink, wait. She popped gum and sighed.

 

“Sorry.” Duo leaned over Yuy and grabbed his food and drink, maneuvering with difficulty in the tight space of the car. Yuy made an uncomfortable sound and looked annoyed as Duo settled back in his seat.

 

The server said, “Thank you, have a great day!” with the same tone as someone giving an insult.

 

Duo grunted sourly, “Not likely.”

 

Yuy pulled the car back onto the street.

 

Duo put his coffee in a cup holder and then rummaged through his bag of food. Yuy’s silence was deafening. Duo paused and looked at him sideways. His expression was flat, his eyes studying the road ahead as if he was taking the final on an exam. His car was perfectly clean. He hadn’t added anything to a basic dealer package, not even a GPS. It looked as if he had driven it off the lot that morning before coming to work. Again, it was another indication of someone who wasn’t a risk taker. He didn’t change norms to suit himself. That meant he was probably by the book. Duo didn’t like that one bit.

 

“You really don’t talk much, do you?”

 

Yuy didn’t reply and his expression didn’t change. He continued to watch the road.

 

As he pulled food from his bag and began un-wrapping a burrito, Duo said, “I see my reputation precedes me. You’re pissed you were assigned as my partner, aren’t you? I get that. I’m famous for solving hard cases, but people think I’m a lunatic and an asshole. I have a folder in psych that’s as thick as a dictionary.”

 

Yuy glanced at Duo with a puzzled, clueless expression. He returned to watching the road as if whatever puzzled him wasn’t something he wanted to investigate further, whatever Duo was saying was unimportant, or– The third reason seemed unlikely, but Duo had to ask. “You do know who I am, don’t you?”

 

Yuy shook his head slightly. Duo stared.

 

“You mean there is some corner of this city where people haven’t ridiculed me, wanted to end my career, or aren’t in awe of my incredible record of solved cases?”

 

Yuy said nothing. His silence was beginning to grate on Duo’s nerves. His silences said more than speaking, but Duo wasn’t sure he was reading him right. Duo was comfortable with anger and contempt. He wasn’t sure what to do when someone didn’t care at all.

 

Duo bit into his burrito and tasted peppers. He had forgotten to ask for them to be left out. He swallowed his bite with difficulty and then began methodically picking out the peppers from the rest of the burrito and leaving them in a pile on the wrapper.

 

“Well, don’t go googling me now to find out my record. All the stories are false... except the one about the moose stampede and the midget, er, little person. I didn’t have any choice in either situation.”

 

Yuy frowned slightly.

 

Duo said in annoyance, “You’re judging. Don’t judge. Your job is to take notes and walk behind me. When I ask, you read them back to me. If shit goes down... run. I’ll be running ahead of you. As I said, I don’t do Jack Bauer. You can google him, just so you know what I mean.”

 

Duo began eating his de-peppered burritos with gusto. It might have been better if their first case was simply a fact-checking walk-through. Unfortunately, Duo knew that Merquise was wrong. There was more to the case than a simple dog attack. Odd facts that didn’t fall into their neat narrative screamed out from the file as if the victim still had a voice. Duo hoped Yuy lasted long enough to solve it. He really hated taking his own notes.

 

For more of my fanfiction and fanart: http://kracken.bonpublishing.com/new/index.shtml

TBC


	4. Not What It Seems

Duo and Yuy looked out of place among people in colorful jogging suits and those spending some leisure time in the park. The sun had finally come out and, though it was still chilly, it was turning out to be a nice day.

 

“I didn’t know there was a park like this around here,” Duo said as he walked the jogging path with his hands in his pockets and his combat boots making solid sounds on the cement. Wearing his dark sunglasses, he looked around appreciatively at the thick trees, shrubs, and well maintained grassy areas. The park was designed to look natural, but not so natural that people used to a concrete and a high rise lifestyle would be made to feel uncomfortable.

 

A blonde, overweight woman in a red jogging suit, with three excited pug dogs on leashes, almost tangled with Duo. They briefly did a dance until she had negotiated herself and her charges around Duo on the narrow path. With an annoyed frown, she continued on her way.

 

Duo stared after them. “Who would want little dogs like that? Useless.”

 

“My last partner, Juan Ramirez, has a little dog. It’s a good companion.”

 

Duo started and looked at Yuy in surprise. He looked over the top of his sunglasses at him. “He speaks. Your ex-partner has a Chihuahua?”

 

Yuy frowned. “Why do you think it’s a Chihuahua?”

 

Duo stared, discarded several responses and then shrugged. “No reason.”

 

Yuy didn’t look convinced.

 

They continued down the path. Duo looked for a marker and didn’t find it. They backtracked to a curve in the path that was closer to a road. They could clearly hear traffic. Duo could see where shrubs had been brutalized.

 

“Here, I think," Duo said and led the way off the path and through the space that had been forced through the bushes. After a few yards, he spotted the badly tattered crime scene tape hanging loosely from between bushes and tree trunks. It was impossible to tell if anyone had contaminated the area, but it was a safe bet they had. The clueless and the morbid, who had heard about the dog attack, wouldn’t have allowed a flimsy taped warning to impede them.

 

“This is it,” Duo said unnecessarily.

 

Standing outside the perimeter, Duo pulled off his sunglasses and put them in his coat pocket. He took in all the obvious details of the crime scene while Yuy stood silently at his elbow and played with his cell phone. Duo could hear his thumbs tapping keys. It was an annoying distraction as well as unprofessional, Duo thought. All of Yuy’s attention should have been on gathering evidence missed by the first investigation.

 

Duo said, “The body was found five days ago by a jogger’s dog. After a preliminary investigation turned up nothing, and some strange facts presented themselves, it was dumped into my IN file.”

 

Duo slowly circled the crime scene with his eyes on the ground. Yuy followed him closely, finally looking around as well. Their feet crunched on dead leaves and twigs. Bird song and traffic noise mingled. Sunspots dappled the ground. The rain had washed away the blood and nature was recovering from the trampling of investigators and the coroner. It didn’t look like the place where a gruesome murder had taken place.

 

It seemed disrespectful to speak loudly because of the gravity of the scene. Duo said softy, “Poor Carla Metzer, the woman who was murdered here, was considered one step above a Jane Doe. That means nobody reported her missing, she didn’t have any friends, they couldn’t find any family, and no one claimed the body. A week is not really due diligence in an investigation, but they were 100% sure it was a dog attack… until something weird presented itself. Naturally, they turned it over to me, the expert of weird. If you think that’s unusual, you would be wrong. My IN file overfloweth with weird cases.

 

Yuy was silent but looked thoughtful. Duo sighed. Their partnership was done before it was begun. When they returned to headquarters he intended to tell Merquise he could send Yuy back where ever the hell he had come from. He was a dud as a detective, maybe even mentally deficient. It wasn’t any wonder he had been ‘loaned’ to Duo’s department. It was obvious his own precinct had wanted to get rid of him.

 

Duo mentally tuned Yuy out of his thoughts. He didn’t usually let a crime scene ‘speak’ to him with others present, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell Yuy to go back to the car and wait. Duo was going to feel bad enough when he had Yuy sent packing later.

 

Duo cocked his head to one side, stopped walking, and opened up his ‘talent’. The trees seemed to sway and flicker. His braid swung gently in a breeze and his amethyst eyes became unfocused as he brought all of his senses to bear on the crime scene. He caught an impression of low moaning, a dog growling, and the voice of a woman making terrifying sounds that might have been words but were too faint to make out properly. Duo took a deep breath and tried again, tapping deep into his psychosis as if it were a radio he needed to tune into a station. Sounds that were not really audible, but more a vibration along sensitive strands of consciousness, as thin as spider web, became clearer.

 

Suddenly a woman’s voice cried loudly, “Don’t. Stop!”

 

Duo forced himself not to reach for his gun. He had never fired it outside of practice, but he was a trained detective and a drawn gun was often enough of a threat to stop most aggressive actions by suspects. In this situation, a gun wasn’t going to frighten anyone. He couldn’t harm the demonic creations of his overactive mind even though they sometimes seemed as much flesh and blood as anyone. He had several bullet holes in the plaster of his apartment to prove it.

 

Nothing else was forthcoming even though Duo tried to leave himself completely open to receive the slightest mental vibe. Frustrated, he chalked it up to Yuy’s presence. Even though the man was silent, Duo couldn’t tune him out of his thoughts.

 

Joyous birdsong and playful, dappled sunlight highlighted the fact that despite sad crimes like Carla’s murder, the world went on without pause. It took close acquaintances to care about her death and to remember her life, Duo thought as he carefully skirted the crime scene until he stood where the sound of the woman had seemed the loudest. It was up to him to make sure that at least her death wasn’t a forgotten, dusty file folder with a question mark.

 

A spreading oak tree with a gnarled trunk covered in vines and moss seemed out of another era. It was an ancient among younger saplings and thorny undergrowth and beyond the well-ordered plantings of shrubs and flowers of the park. Looking closely among the small leaves of the vines hugging the trunk like a skirt of green, Duo saw the smallest scrap of something dark. Pulling an evidence kit out of his pocket, he told Yuy, “Photograph this and take notes.”

 

In a clear, monotone, Duo said, as he peered closely at the find, “Black, coarse fur and a slight scrape, possibly from the nails of a dog, on a large oak tree to the left of the crime scene facing away from the jogging path. First impression: the low level of the mark, its distance from where the body was discovered, and the direction of the scrape prove that the victim fled into the forest pursued by the dog and was not immediately killed as the forensic report suggested. The lack of footprints and other evidence of a dog arriving on the scene or leaving the scene suggests to me that the dog’s owner covered up the evidence and brought the body to the clearing where it could be discovered. We may be looking at a murder, not a simple dog attack, and certainly nothing supernatural... Are you writing this down, Yuy?”

 

Duo looked back at Yuy and then started when he found the man bent very near him and aiming his cell phone at the evidence. Duo had a disorienting view of the man’s strong neck, there was a small mole there, and he caught Yuy’s scent. It hinted at a spicy aftershave and the crisp, male scent of a man perspiring in a suit coat on a sunny day. It wasn’t unpleasant.

 

Without comment, Yuy turned the cell to show Duo that he was taking photos and recording.

 

Duo said, flustered, “I guess that works if you’re lazy. Shit happens to electronics, though, so you better save that somewhere in your ‘cloud’, Yuy.”

 

“Heero.”

 

Duo blinked in confusion. “What?”

 

Attention on his phone, he said, “Call me Heero.”

 

Duo glared and throttled the urge to tell the man that he soon wouldn’t be around for Duo to call him anything except ex-partner. “Whatever.”

 

Heero nodded once, neither looking pleased by the concession or annoyed at Duo’s flippant response. Duo wished he could get a read on the man, but he was a brick wall. Duo shook his head sharply to clear it of idiotic thoughts as he took the sample of fur and put it into a small evidence baggie. He labeled it carefully.

 

Goosebumps on his skin warned Duo a moment before he looked up in trepidation and saw it. Past the tree trunk, half hidden by shrubbery was the apparition of a white fox.

 

TBC  
For more fanfiction and fanart by me and other GW fanfiction creators go to my site http://www.kracken.bonpublishing.com


	5. Bluer Than Blue

No, not a fox, Duo saw with a sickening lurch in his stomach. It was furtive, frightened, and sad at the same time, its face, neither male nor female, a horror mask of twisted lines, an open mouth, and white fish like eyes. Duo had mistaken the glow around it for white fur and the light it left behind as it moved, a tail, but this thing seemed caught suspended in a sunspot. It was a horror face on something beautiful and natural and Duo knew this had significance. His subconscious was trying to tell him something.  


The horrible creature turned and zipped through a break in the bushes as if it didn’t have any substance. It didn’t, Duo told himself sternly. Now was not the time to fall down the rabbit hole trying to argue their reality or lack of it. He did that often, but in his apartment with a few bottles of Jack and his gold fish for sounding boards. There he could safely posit the frightening notion that he might not be schizophrenic after all.

“This way,” Duo ordered as he shoved his forensic kit and the plastic bag of evidence into his pocket. He followed the creature with Heero on his heels.

They had trouble getting through greenery some evil landscaper had decided required thorns and impenetrable barriers of branches to keep park visitors on the main paths. Their clothing quickly became disheveled and their skin was marked by numerous scratches where it was unprotected by cloth.

Duo expected Heero to question his judgment, but the man dutifully followed, only making sounds when he was scratched particularly viciously. Duo was more colorful in his expletives. It helped express his hurt and calm his nerves. It was difficult to choose to follow a nightmare.

Duo was seeing the wisdom of following though, it was clear that someone had been there before them. He saw many instances of broken branches and greenery that had been smashed down by being trampled. That these signs were still there to be seen even after so much time had passed, attested to the severity. Duo imagined a woman fleeing and a heavier, clumsier man, pursuing and doing most of the damage. A dog would have simply slipped through and under, its padded feet hardly leaving a trace. Beauty and ugliness, the very thing the apparition was trying to tell him.

The creature faded into a clearing full of sunspots, but its direction was plain and Duo continued until he found a narrow well-worn track that cut horizontally across his path where the undergrowth wasn’t so thick. Duo turned and followed it until it ended at a break in an old sagging chain link fence that was slowly becoming one with the morning glories and kudzu. Beyond it was a busy city street.

The investigators had stopped at the supposed murder scene, lazily concluding that it had been a dog attack, open and shut. Nothing to see here; literally. Without friends or family to push the investigation, it had been filed and was ready to be forgotten, except by one person on the case who couldn’t lay it to rest with Carla’s poor body when it lacked crucial evidence. A dog had seemingly magically appeared and disappeared, leaving no tracks after the attack.

Duo stared at the street thoughtfully and said aloud, “Take notes; suspect’s possible escape route; a small path that leads to a chain link fence and Martin street. No tracks because of the recent rain, but broken branches and crushed leaves are still visible. Yuy-Heero, take photos of the broken and crushed greenery.”

Duo expected silence, despite the fact that even a rookie should have asked why he thought there was a suspect. Duo felt compelled to turn and check to make sure Heero was following his direction. He wasn’t. Heero was absent.

Furious, Duo took a deep breath to shout for him. Heero appeared out of the bushes at that moment, cradling something close to his chest. He was speaking to it softly in reassuring tones. The dark scowl on his face was at odds with that tender attention and Duo wasn’t sure what to make of it. A graduate of the violent streets, Duo had a suspicious nature hard wired into his psyche. A man might look like that, speak like that, when he was trying to lure in some mark to murder, rob, and toss into a dumpster. Duo felt the urge to save whatever the man was holding, imagining those strong arms squeezing some delicate creature to death after he tired of playing with it.

The man’s arms lowered though, before Duo could act, showing that they were protecting a tiny black kitten. The man gently brushed a blunt fingertip over the tiny head. The scrawny, dirty ball of black fur purred and butted its head against it.

“What the hell?” Duo exclaimed. “If you wanted a new pet, we could have swung by the Humane Society for Christ’s sake! I’m trying to do a serious investigation of a crime scene. You are supposed to take notes and support me.”

Heero didn’t look up, still giving the kitten the full intensity of his dark stare. He replied shortly, “I’m your partner, not your secretary.”

Heero turned and walked back down the path towards the park, snapping photos with his cell phone one handed as he went.

Angrily, Duo dug a pen and a notepad out of his pocket and scribbled down his own notes. He grumbled, “I have seniority here! I’m the lead investigator! I’m older than you! I’m the one with the reputation! The mojo! The magic!”

Duo finished his notes with a hard scrawl of his pen and looked up. Heero was nowhere in sight. His tirade had not impressed his new partner apparently or even the squirrels busily gathering nuts.

Duo jammed his notepad and pen into his pocket and went in search of Heero to deliver his caustic opinion of the man’s performance, or lack of it, to his face. He stopped abruptly when he almost collided with Heero’s broad back on the other side of a tangle of bushes and vines.

Heero was holding the kitten close to his breast, cell phone lax and dangling in his hand. He was staring at the ground.

Duo snapped sarcastically, “What? Find a puppy too?”

Heero motioned to the ground. Duo dropped his annoyance at once and became pure detective as he rounded Heero’s body and saw what he was pointing at. He crouched to take a closer look. Sticking out of the dirt were several little bones and tufts of white and black fur. It was mostly likely another kitten, but one not as lucky as Heero’s.

“Take pictures,” Duo ordered. “Lots of them.”

Heero didn’t argue. He slipped the live kitten into his coat pocket and began taking cell photos of every angle. When he moved to take photos of the surrounding area, Duo took out another evidence baggie and collected bones and fur. After he zipped it up and labeled it, he held it up to examine it more closely.

A dog’s face suddenly appeared on the other side of the bag. A deep dark black, with blue eyes, its mouth was crunching down on a kitten. It was there and gone within seconds, so quickly in fact, that Duo almost doubted he had seen it. The spray of blood and the dog’s frighteningly human eyes, full of evil intelligence, were engraved on his mind though. He could recall it perfectly.

Duo straightened with purpose. “Heero, look for more kittens.”

My website for more fanfiction and fanart: http://kracken.bonpublishing.com/new/index.shtml


	6. Creatures Great and Haunted

Later, as they drove down city streets, the kitten climbed the car seats and seemed determined to get into Duo’s personal space. He kept putting a hand on its tiny face and pushing it towards Heero to no avail.

 

“I don’t think you’re my secretary, Heero. I just observe better when I’m not taking notes.”

 

Heero frowned as he drove, eyes like laser beams on the road ahead.

 

Duo pushed the kitten away from him yet again, making it slide along the top of the seat as it made pitiful mewling noises. Duo stared hard at the side of Heero’s face, hating the man thoroughly now. What more did he want? It wasn’t easy for Duo to apologize, especially when he didn’t think he had to. The man wasn’t being reasonable. Maybe, Duo thought, he had managed to piss him off about other things.

 

“Okay, it was also a dick move to take you to a crime scene without letting you have time to look over the case.... or give you much information about it.”

 

Still silence. Heero raked his rough cut chocolate colored hair out of his face with one hand and his attention didn’t waver from the road. The sunlight made his dark blue eyes seem rarified. Duo had thought he looked plain, almost boring, but in reality he was a handsome man who had intelligence and firm purpose in his expression. Duo though of James Dean and the young Clint Eastwood, people just as intense. His silence seemed judgment now, instead of a default setting.

 

Duo ground out, “I wasn’t treating you like my partner, an equal.”

 

Heero finally gave a small, satisfied nod.

 

“Our victim was supposedly attacked by a dog and killed,” Duo told him. “Problem one: the dog was never found. Problem two: while there were dog prints on the ground around the victim, there weren’t any dog prints leaving the crime scene. No eyewitnesses. No sightings of a blood covered dog, or even a normal looking stray, in the area. He was like a ninja, killing like an expert and disappearing afterward like a ghost.

 

Duo pushed the kitten away yet again and exclaimed in frustration, “What are we going to do with this thing? It’s evidence. I’ve never had live evidence before.”

 

“Forensics.”

 

“I know it’s going to forensics, but after?” Duo said. “They can’t just bag it, label it, and put it in a bin until trial. They better not foist it off on me. I have pets.” He had two goldfish he barely remembered to feed. He had inherited them after the violent death of Father Maxwell, the priest who had been like a real father to him while Duo had been in foster care.

 

Heero didn’t voice an opinion or offer to take on the commitment of a pet himself, even though he had treated the kitten gently.

 

Duo spotted something on the kitten. He reached for the kitten and pulled off a round, plain sticker from its fur before pushing it away again. The dirty sticker stuck to his fingers. Disgusted, he tried to get it off by shaking them. Finally, it flew off into the back seat. It was evidence, whatever it was. He reminded himself to retrieve it and bag it as soon as they reached their destination. Distracted, he didn’t notice the kitten leave the seat until its small paws were on his shoulder. It curled up on his neck and went to sleep with the swiftness of the very young.

 

Duo glared down at the kitten. “If people only knew the true nature of cats,” he grumbled, recalling how many times in his life a seemingly benign bundle of fluff and cuteness had turned into a demon from hell. “Sure they seem nice and they make you feel good, but they aren’t nice. They’re playing you to get food and a warm place to sleep.”

 

“Small panhandlers,” Heero said suddenly.

 

Duo raised an eyebrow. “Exactly.”

 

“That describes people too.”

 

Duo snorted. “I might like you after all.”

 

Duo reached up a hand to remove the kitten, but it suddenly began to purr. His hand hovered over the dark ball of fluff as if the purring had the ability to sap his sense of purpose. Finally, Duo lowered his hand and left it alone. Soon he would hand it over to forensics and they would check it down to the microscopic level for clues. After that, Duo told himself he didn’t care. It would probably end up at the pound.

 

“Let’s check out Carla’s apartment.” Duo gave Heero the address then put his ear buds in and tried to order his thoughts before they arrived. He ignored the small voice inside, the street wise, hard-core part of him that accused Duo of trying to buy time for the kitten.

 

*******************

Carla’s apartment building was a three story brownstone walk up that would have looked nice with its front planters full of flowers and a bright sunny day as a backdrop. The stone planters were full of dead flowers, though, and the sun had gone behind dark clouds as a storm threatened rain or snow and a stiff wind blew down the street. It gave the entire neighborhood a look straight out of the beginning of a horror story.

 

Standing in front of Carla’s apartment while a few pedestrians walked around them, Heero and Duo both looked up at the approximation of where Carla’s home was: third floor, fourth window on the left.

 

Duo had his hands in his pockets and his ear buds were hanging around his shoulders. His long braid swung in the breeze.

 

“We shouldn’t leave the kitten in the car,” Heero said suddenly.

 

Duo glared at him. “Is your mind ever on the case?”

 

Duo opened the large pocket of his black coat and revealed the kitten snuggled warmly inside.

 

Heero grunted, seemingly satisfied, and looked up again.

 

Duo blinked and felt a chill that had nothing to do with the wind. A ghostly hawk flew from an upper window through suddenly falling snow. Duo turned his hand palm up and felt nothing. The snow was as ghostly as the hawk.

 

“According to the report, our victim, Carla Metzer, was a woman who enjoyed sameness,” Duo said. “She had a rigid routine that she followed every day. Her neighbors were questioned and they all confirmed that they could set their watches by her daily habits. It was the only thing they noticed about our unassuming Carla. She had a cable bill, a phone she only used to order pizza on Thursdays, and a crush.”

 

Duo started walking down the sidewalk away from the apartment building, following the flight of the hawk. After a moment’s hesitation, Heero followed him.

 

Duo continued, “The weird thing about the case isn’t the fact that she was killed by a dog. It isn’t even weird because the dog pulled a Hound of the Baskervilles and ‘disappeared’. It’s weird because of the one thing no one in the investigation picked up on. Our poor Carla broke her routine and went jogging after work. In fact, she went to a park that wasn’t close to her home in order to jog. Something tells me Carla went there to meet someone.”

 

“A lover?”

 

“Carla was shy,” Duo went on, as if Heero had questioned his theory. “She worked at an insurance firm for five years, yet none of her coworkers knew her well. She sat on a bus bench for five years, yet the people who sat with her every morning couldn’t recall ever speaking to her. Suddenly, she broke with her routine and started buying a coffee and danish every morning. The employees in the coffee shop confirmed it. They recalled her because she acted oddly.”

 

Heero made a surprising conclusion, “She was probably having panic attacks because she was forcing herself into a social situation.”

 

Duo hadn’t thought of that. It made him irritable as he replied, “Because buying coffee and a danish is terrifying?”

 

Duo could feel Heero’s tension even though the man was walking behind him.

 

“Okay,” Duo grated, “She was having panic attacks and that made her stick out among the crowd of usual coffee drinkers.”

 

Yuy said bluntly, “You thought she was on drugs, didn’t you?”

 

“It was only a working theory,” Duo replied defensively.

 

Duo pointed briefly to indicate the coffee shop on their right, a small establishment that was an unremarkable place in a line of unremarkable shops with its name, Good Perks, written in florid script on its large, plate glass window. Duo didn’t stop walking to go inside.

 

“Every day, she passed that clothing shop, that delicateness, that cell phone shop, that salon, and last, but not least, that bail bonds office, but never went inside them.” Duo pointed briefly to each shop in quick succession as he walked by them.

 

Duo finally stopped at a bench and a bus stop sign. He smoothed a hand over the back of the bench there, ignoring the woman sitting on it. The woman looked apprehensive and moved further down the seat away from him.

 

“My theory, Heero, is that Carla met someone who made her want to change her routine.”

 

Heero stood next to him, looking down at the bench as if it could tell him something, “The killer?”

 

Duo grinned. “That would make this case too easy.”

 

“We’re looking for a jogger?” Heero theorized. “Someone handsome enough to make Carla change her routine and take up jogging herself in order to see him?”

 

Duo nodded. Heero was definitely not an idiot. “That would establish why she was at the park. As for a clue to her killer, forensics photographed the footprints in the area at the time of the murder. They were all jogging shoes… except for a pair of combat boots.”

 

Heero frowned. “Your theory is that she went jogging, hoping to meet someone, and ran into a killer instead? You said the first investigation found that the killer was a stray dog. You’ll need a strong case to convince a jury it was a person.”

 

Duo pointed an admonishing finger at him as he leaned on the back of the bench. “Don’t sound so skeptical.”

 

Heero insisted. “We need evidence.”

 

Duo dropped his finger and pushed himself away from the bench. He walked back to the coffee shop with Heero in tow. “Let’s find some, then.”

 

TBC  
For more fanfiction and fanart by me and others please go to my website: www.kracken.bonpublishing.com


	7. Follow the Breadcrumbs

The coffee shop was small, but had an air of a metropolitan café; red, black, and chrome décor with a clientele that was more business types than casually dressed people taking a break from shopping. The smell of grinding coffee and fresh baked desserts made Duo feel like ordering a second breakfast as he entered the establishment with Heero close behind him.

 

“You didn’t mention combat boots earlier,” Heero pointed out irritably.

 

“There was crushed clover too,” Duo snapped back, “and a dead fly to the left of the—”

 

“It’s an important detail.”

 

“I’ll give you the file later and you can—”

 

“Text it to me now.”

 

Duo glared at him. “I don’t have it on my phone.”

 

“Online?”

 

Duo’s stare turned withering. “No.”

 

Heero looked frustrated.

 

“I’ll give you the file to read later.” Duo promised and then turned his back on him. He wasn’t going to admit that he was technology challenged in front of everyone or admit to himself that telling Heero would embarrass him the most. It was unusual for him to care what anyone thought.

 

Duo stood in line at the counter and waited until it was his turn. Pulling out his cell phone, he showed her the photo he had taken of Carla’s file photo. He didn’t engage in small talk as he abruptly asked the gum chewing blond girl behind the counter, “Have you seen this woman before?”

 

She grinned excitedly. “This is just like a cop show. Are you a detective? Was there a murder?” she looked around the shop with wide eyes, as if a corpse might suddenly appear slumped over a cappuccino.

 

Duo waved his phone at her to get her attention again.

 

Another barista leaned in to look closer at the photo. He was a handsome, in shape, African American man with an expensive fade haircut and a well-trimmed beard.

 

“Do you recognize this woman?” Duo asked him.

 

The barista nodded. “Yes, I do. We get a lot of customers, but she was acting kind of odd, so she stood out.”

 

“What was she doing?” Heero asked suddenly dropping his silent bad cop attitude.

 

“We were questioned already and shown this photo by some other detectives a while ago,” the man said. “That woman was very nervous, stuttering, dropping things, and looking around like she was scared.”

 

“Was she with anyone?” Duo asked.

 

“No.”

 

That followed the report, Duo thought, his story hadn’t changed.

 

“They didn’t explain then, what this woman did. Why are you looking for her?” the male barista asked.

 

Duo pocketed his phone, thinking sadly that Carla’s murder had been a blip on the news and these people hadn’t even seen the public report. Carla was definitely owed some justice.

 

Duo looked the male barista up and down intently. He ignored the question and said, “You look like you’re in good shape.”

 

Barista suddenly became annoyed and flippant. “Sorry, I’m gay, but I’m married.” He flashed a gold ring on his finger.

 

“I was making an observation, not a pass, sir. It’s relevant to the case. Do you jog?”

 

The barista suddenly became nervous. “Should I call a lawyer?”

 

“What?”

 

“Is this, ‘blame the black man’?”

 

The other barista became incensed. “It better not be!” she exclaimed angrily, stabbing a finger at Duo, “Or you’ll be the one going to jail, you racist!”

 

It was hard for Duo to suppress his frustration and annoyance. “I’m not accusing anyone. I’m trying to establish if there is a preferred place where people in this neighborhood jog.”

 

Both barista’s outrage deflated.

 

“Yes,” the male barista replied. “Eastside Park. It has a great jogging path through the woods. It’s safe, too. There’s a security guard who patrols the park in the evening. Did this woman commit a crime?”

 

“Sorry, I can’t discuss the case,” Duo replied. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

 

“Sure,” the male barista replied and then asked in a more professional manner, “Did you want to order coffee?”

 

Duo suddenly noticed the display case full of cakes, cookies, and muffins. His stomach suddenly wanted one of each.

 

“Coffee and a danish, Heero?” Duo asked.

 

Heero grunted sourly, “No.”

 

“Your loss.” Duo ordered, “I’ll have a large coffee. Add caramel and a shot of whipped cream. I want two raspberry cream danish as well.”

 

Heero said more strongly, “I said I didn’t want any.”

 

Duo made a dismissive gesture with one hand and then pulled out his wallet to pay. “I heard you. They’re both for me.”

 

********************************

A short time later they walked back to Carla’s apartment building. Duo was holding his coffee and bag of danish in one hand. Heero was leading the way, looking thoughtful.

 

Heero stopped and said abruptly, “Carla was a stalker.”

 

Duo looks at Heero. The man was staring up at Carla’s building and frowning darkly, his messy chocolate hair in his eyes. He looked brooding and handsome.

 

“Why do you think that?” Duo wondered.

 

“According to you she was a creature of habit,” Heero replied, “with no friends or even close associates. That means her shyness was debilitating. Going into the coffee shop was not part of her routine. Neither was going to the park.”

 

Duo thought it through as he watched foot traffic pass by them. His hand reached into his pocket and he gently stroked the head of the sleeping kitten. “So you think she saw the Barista back there, looking buff behind the counter-maybe through the front window as she passed by each day- and fell in love with him? She followed him and found out he jogs? She put on running shoes and went to the park to ‘accidentally’ run into him?”

 

Heero looked as if he were deliberating each word of Duo’s conclusion before he said, “No.”

 

Duo growled irritably, “No?”

 

Heero said “She was too shy. She was stalking him. She was jogging so she could see him, not meet him. She didn’t have stamina, though, and she fell behind. She stopped jogging when she became exhausted. She didn’t try to follow him at a slower pace. Instead, she stepped off the jogging path.”

 

Heero paused and looked thoughtful.

 

Duo waited and then said prompted impatiently, “And?”

 

Heero continued, “I don’t know. Something made her go deeper into the trees. She met the killer there.”

 

Duo’s braid swung in an arc as he confronted Heero with a raised eyebrow. “Where does the dog come into all of this? What was the killer and the dog doing in the park that Carla might have witnessed?”

 

Heero stared at him and then down at Duo’s pocket.

 

Duo’s hand, stroking the small head of the kitten, froze.

 

Heero said, “The kitten made noises. I went into the trees looking for it. Maybe Carla did too.”

 

Duo shook his head, “Not this kitten. He’s too young. It had to be another kitten.”

 

They both thought of the tufts of fur they had collected.

 

Duo said, “Forensics found dog and cat hair on Carla’s body. The cat hair was discounted because she did own a cat. The report didn’t say what kind of cat.”

 

Duo headed for the door of the apartment building with purpose. “I’ll need you to speak Chinese to the landlord,” he told Heero. “The report said he was being difficult and spoke little English. He didn’t care about poor Carla, he just wanted authorization to sell her things if there was no one to claim them.”

 

Heero, following close behind said, “I don’t speak Chinese.”

 

Duo felt embarrassed. “Sorry, I just assumed since you could.”

 

“I’m part Japanese, not Chinese.” Heero added, “I don’t speak Japanese either. I can speak Spanish.”

 

Duo stopped in frustration. “I’ll need an interpreter if I want decent info out of the landlord. Let’s go back to the station until we get someone. We need to make phone calls and do some research, anyway. Investigators were looking for a stray dog, or someone’s unleashed pet, but I’m sure they weren’t looking for the trained attack dog of a killer. We can also drop the kitten off at forensics. We’ll pick up lunch on the way.”  
Heero looked down at Duo’s hand holding the coffee and danish. Duo scowled back at him. “What?” Duo challenged, “I have a high metabolism.”

 

 

TBC


	8. I Hate Spiders

Back at the Precinct headquarters, Duo sat at his desk eating his lunch, a hamburger with the works, a coke, and some french fries. He had in his ear buds and was listening to some Glitch Mob, well aware that Wufei was sitting at his desk and looking at him in disgust. When Duo accidentally dropped a dollop of ketchup from his burger onto his paperwork that frown deepened. When Duo didn’t interrupt his computer research to clean it up, he swore and muttered under his breath and firmly turned away, as if Duo was chaos incarnate.

 

Duo felt a presence. He looked up briefly and saw Heero standing at the front of his desk looking thoughtful—cautious—angry—wearing his usual expression of intense concentration that was impossible to define. After a long minute, Duo sighed heavily, took out his ear buds, but kept working. It was an open invitation for Heero to speak his mind.

 

Heero didn’t speak. He simply kept staring until Duo was forced to say irritably, “Now that you’ve had time to find out all about me from our fellow officers, are you ready to ask for a reassignment?”

 

Heero kept staring.

 

Duo’s irritation went up a notch.

 

“I’m not judging you. The psychiatrists tell me I have a type of schizophrenia. I’m not so sure, of course, because, heads up, crazy people don’t know they’re crazy. I see things, Heero, and whether they’re my imagination or signs from the netherworld, they help me solve my cases. It works for me. I have an unusually high success rate.”

 

Duo typed a few lines on his computer and watched his internal records search results propagate the screen.

 

“I lose partners because they can’t deal with me,” Duo continued at last, “not so much because of my visions, but because I’m told I’m hard to work with. It’s not a good package, being crazy and a dick. I understand if you want out.”

 

Heero nodded at Duo’s computer. “Have you found anything?”

 

Duo looked up in surprise and stared at him in disbelief, then, flustered, he pawed through the mounds of files and paperwork on his desk before he settled on the piece of paper christened by his ketchup. He dabbed at it with a napkin and then handed the paper to Heero. Heero read what was written there and his eyebrows went up in surprise.

 

Duo grinned, pleased with himself, and told him, “Remember the barista saying the park was perfect because there was security there? The security guard has a military background. His name is Silas Polski. He worked with a dog during his tour of Afghanistan. I did some checking. It’s really amazing how our soldiers strap military dogs to their bodies and go into dangerous situations. I saw a video of a soldier strapping a German Shepard to his chest and jumping out of a plane. It’s cold outside. It’s possible a man could strap a well-trained dog to his body, put on a large coat, and walk around without anyone noticing. It would explain the disappearing dog tracks and the lack of witnesses. A bloody dog is hard to miss.

 

“Motive?”

 

Duo shrugged. “Hell if I know. Maybe he’s decided to become an assassin for hire? He could always say the dog did it and beat a murder charge.”

 

Duo showed Heero several evidence bags. “These are cat bones. My theory is that he was using them as training bait. I checked with forensics. The cat hair found on the victim was black. I had Robert Chin call her Chinese landlord and confirm that she owned a white cat. I think Carla met up with your kitten friend. For some reason, the dog attacked Carla instead of the kitten.”

 

Heero frowned thoughtfully. “It doesn’t make sense to train a dog to kill kittens when he wants to kill people.”

 

The little black kitten emerged from underneath a stack of papers, stretched, yawned wide enough to show its needle sharp teeth, and then slowly climbed the garbage on Duo’s desk to reach him. Its fur was sticking up in all directions and its wide eyes and skinny appearance made it look like a crack head waking up from an all-nighter. It was distracted by Duo’s french fries and expertly pulled one out of the container. When Duo reached to take it away it hissed and protected its food aggressively. Duo retracted his hand before he was bitten or scratched.

 

Heero was saying, “If the trainer was going to kill someone, I think he would use something to make sure his dog attacked the right thing, or person. An object? A scent of some kind?"

 

Duo saved his French fries from another kitten steal by picking up the paper container and holding it out of reach. The kitten hissed at him angrily.  
“Yeah,” Duo grumbled, “You look cute, but you have the attitude of someone’s future ex.”

 

Duo began to reach into the container for a fry for himself, but then froze as he realized the container was full of black spiders. He dropped the container onto his desk with a gasp and fries spilled out. Black spiders with fat bodies, furry legs, and intimidating jaws didn’t follow. Duo, hand trembling, picked up a pencil and poked at the container fearfully while the kitten pounced on the fries and carried one off to a safe position on top of Duo’s In file.

 

“What’s wrong?” Heero wondered sharply, leaning forward in concern.

 

Duo dropped the pencil as if it burned him and scowled, trying to remember the details of his vision: the spiders clustered tightly, multiple eyes staring up at Duo, black fur on hairy legs beginning to stir, threatening to propel the spiders out of the container towards Duo. And stickers. Duo’s scowl deepened as he pushed through his fright to remember correctly. There had been tiny stickers on their fat bodies.

 

Duo suddenly propelled himself out of his chair, threw his coat on, and thrust a finger at the kitten.

 

“Wufei! Watch the kitten.”

 

Wufie turned in his chair and glared, perfectly slicked back, black hair looking tight enough to be painful. He managed to look down at Duo despite being seated. “I am not a pet sitter. I have an investigation—”

 

Duo impatiently tucked the kitten into his coat pocket. It refused to give up its french fry and it growled at him as if it feared Duo was about to steal it. Having the kitten with him was becoming a habit Duo didn’t want to develop further, but he was too anxious just then to find another solution. “Heero, I need the keys to your car.”

 

Mystified why Duo’s container of french fries could alarm him and then cause him to want to leave the precinct headquarters on his own, it was plain Heero was doubting Duo’s sanity. He certainly didn’t want to give up his car to a suspected unstable detective. Heero took out his keys, but held them in a tight fist. “I’ll unlock the car.”

 

“Fine, let’s go!” Duo snapped and led the way. He’d take Heero to task for obviously questioning his competency later.

 

Once inside the parking garage, Heero opened the locks to his car with his key fob as Duo rushed towards it. When Duo pulled ineffectually at the passenger side rear door with a dent in it, Heero said calmly, as he caught up to Duo. “It doesn’t open. The car was in an accident.”

 

Duo muttered under his breath as he went to the driver’s side back door and opened it. Climbing into the car, he searched the floor while Heero watched him.

 

“Got it!” Duo said as he backed out of the car again and closed the door, the small sticker stuck to his index finger. He took out an evidence bag from his coat pocket and slipped it inside. Sealing it, he grinned at Heero.

 

“What were you saying about having something from the victims? This was stuck to the kitten’s fur. Let’s get this to forensics.”

 

Duo realized too late that it said something about his sloppy methods and priorities that he had forgotten it in favor of satisfying his hunger for fast food. He was used to having someone to dot the I’s and cross the T’s, even if his partners didn’t stick around long. Being organized while visions and case work filled his thoughts was nearly impossible. He needed Heero, even if Heero rubbed him the wrong way. Or did he? Maybe he had been Mr. Freeze early on, but he was proving insightful and when he did speak it was with purpose. Trusting Duo’s visions and instincts would come later…. If he stuck around.

 

“You have to be more pro-active, Heero,” Duo admonished as they left the parking garage and took the elevator down to forensics. “Make sure everything I say, point to, find, etc., is recorded, bagged, and retrieved. It’s the only way I can work.”

 

“I’m not your assistant, I’m your—”

 

“Partner,” Duo finished. “But I have my job too. You’re not exactly the life of the party. I’ll do all the interviewing and contact work, okay? We both have our parts to play.”

 

Heero didn’t reply right away. Duo was sure he was considering whether he wanted to play his part.

 

 

More fanfiction and fanart from kracken and other authors, updates on the author. http://kracken.bonpublishing.com/new/index.shtml

TBC


	9. Litter Box of the Mind

“I need this by yesterday Barton.” Duo put the bag with the new evidence on the forensics expert’s desk.

 

Deep in the bowels of Precinct headquarters, the red brick walls seemed to leak damp and cold. The high tech equipment, metal tables, and reflective instruments seemed transported from some future time and placed into offices better suited to bootlegger’s hideouts, gambling halls, and other illegal 1920’s activities. The man sitting behind the desk, wearing a black turtle neck and red skinny jeans and calmly eating a sandwich wrapped in a plastic baggy, seemed equally our place. Slim and tall, with short brown hair that hung down in one long bang to hide one of his green eyes, he looked better suited to poetry slams and artist colonies.

 

Trowa Barton picked up a metal pick and gave the evidence bag a poke and then moved it around to study it at all angles as he continued to eat his sandwich.

 

He stopped poking and looked up at Heero with interest. “Is this your new partner?”

 

“We don’t have time for chit-chat,” Duo grumbled. “I need this looked at ASAP.”

 

“On the contrary,” Trowa replied, dead-pan. “I have exactly fifteen minutes. I’m on break.” He ignored Duo’s anger, took a bite of his sandwich and took his time chewing and swallowing. “This is a little dry and I forgot my drink. Could you get me a tea from the machine down the hall?”

 

“No!” Duo growled.

 

“I might need more time for my break then,” Trowa pointed out. “Eating this sandwich dry is going to be hard.”

 

Duo was about to launch into an epic tirade, but Heero quietly left. There was the sound of a soda machine dropping a can into the chute and then Heero returned with a cold can of tea. He placed it on Barton’s desk. Barton smiled at him.

 

“Thanks, Detective?”

 

“Heero Yuy.”

 

“Thanks, Detective Yuy.”

 

Barton opened the can and took a long drink. He made an appreciative noise. “That’s better.”

 

“My evidence?” Duo snapped. “Now?”

 

Barton looked annoyed. “You need to socialize more, Maxwell.”

 

“Did you finish that report, Trowa?” Mayor Quatre Winner breezed into the room as if he owned it. A bright blonde with blue eyes and a rather angelic face, he was dressed in an expensive three piece, blue silk suit, and looked ready for a power lunch with world leaders. His beautiful smile was all for Trowa.

 

Trowa smiled back and Duo felt definite vibes between the two.

 

Trowa gave Duo a pointed look. “As you can see, I do have other work, Maxwell. You can’t just walk in and expect to get your evidence placed at the head of the line.”

 

“Actually, I do.”

 

“Here’s your report.” Trowa fished in a drawer and then drew out a neat dossier with a blue color and handed it to the man. Duo noted that the title on the first page. Homeless Deaths in December Due to Exposure.

 

Mayor Winner took the booklet with a bright smile. “Thank you. This will help push through the homeless shelter project.”

 

“You didn’t have an aide to pick that up?” Duo wondered.

 

“Some things I take care of personally.” Winner was smiling at Barton and Barton was smiling back in a way that convinced Duo they were a definite couple.

 

“I’m glad it’s not because you like to hang out in morgues, Mayor Winner,” Duo said acidly. Duo prodded his evidence with a stiff finger. “Now that’s out of the way, you can work on my case.”

 

Barton checked his watch. “I still have six minutes of break time.” His green eye sparkled at Quatre as he added shyly, “Unless the mayor would like me to take an early lunch?”

 

“Lunch?” Duo exploded.

 

“Permission granted,” Winner replied. “There’s a little deli on Martin st….”

 

Barton stood up and stripped off his lab coat. He straightened his turtle neck and nodded at Winner. “Let’s try it.”

 

“That’s fraternizing!” Duo snarled, his fists clenched angrily as he blocked Barton’s way. “I know there is a statute against it.”

 

“No, you don’t,” Barton said as he gave Duo a stiff fingered push out of his way and joined Quatre at the door. As they passed through it, he was saying, “Don’t mind him. He’s crazy. You look so handsome today, Quatre.” He suddenly leaned back in the door and told Duo, “Put the evidence in the proper bin and make sure it’s labeled. I’ll get to it right after lunch.”

 

He was gone again and Duo was left fuming.

 

The kitten made a small sound. Duo took it out of his pocket and placed it on his shoulder. It dug in claws and settled there, but it continued to mew pathetically.

 

Heero picked up Barton’s generic white coffee cup, took it to a stainless steel sink and emptied the cold contents. He filled it with water and brought it back to the kitten. After raising it to the kitten’s level and tipping it, the kitten was able to get a drink. It lapped at it eagerly.

 

“You need to call someone to pick up the kitten as evidence,” Heero said.

 

“And miss the fun of watching it use Wufie’s paperwork as a litter box?” Duo replied absently, still looking angrily after Barton. “Why am I the only one who cares about Carla?”

 

“You have a sense of urgency that most people don’t share,” Heero replied.

 

“Meaning I’m obsessed with my cases?”

 

“Barton does have time for lunch. An hour—or even a few days—won’t matter to Carla.”

 

Duo’s eyes narrowed and he shivered all over as he saw a vision of Carla, standing in the doorway and shrieking, face torn and bleeding from the vicious bites of a dog. “Maybe it does.”

 

Heero lowered the mug and looked at the doorway. “Are you having one of your episodes?”

 

The vision disappeared and Duo stuck his hands in his pockets and hunched down as if to duck under a blow. “Carla needs justice.”

 

TBC

If you want more fanfics and fanart by me and other authors please go to: http://kracken.bonpublishing.com/new/index.shtml


End file.
